


Beastly

by DOakes



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Animal Transformation, Curses, M/M, Memory Alteration, Thilbo, bagginshield
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:27:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1413337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DOakes/pseuds/DOakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Smaug descends upon the Lonely Mountain, he challenges it's inhabitants to a game of riddles--if he loses, the dwarves would be allowed to kill him. If he wins, the treasures of Erebor and something else...</p><p>Cursed and forgotten, Thorin flees East to the forests of Buckland, where he lives a lone and unhappy life, dreaming of the day in which he returns to Erebor. For 200 years, he is undisturbed. </p><p>Until, during the Fell Winter, a young hobbit wanders in...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_T.A 2770_

 

Thorin paced the high towers of Erebor, checking to see if there were any signs of danger. The other dwarves on the battlements were either chatting with the other tower guards or gambling. Few rarely did decide to actually watch for danger, as dwarves did not have many enemies, let alone ones that could fly or travel through air.

 

"Thorin," Balin greeted, stopping his bored pacing. He looked over the surrounding woodland. "Quite windy today, isn't it?"

 

"True," Thorin nodded. The gales whipped his black locks around his face in an annoying matter , and the pines creaked and groaned under the pressure. "Just bad weather?"

 

"Possibly," He turned and began pacing agitatedly. "I've never seen weather this bad before."

 

"You haven't lived as long as me," Thorin teased, but doubt gnawed at him. He hadn't seen weather like this as well, in all of his 24 years.

 

Balin looked at him, worry filling his gaze. He was a young dwarrow after all--he had reason to be nervous. "But are you sure?"

 

By Mahal, young dwarves were curious.

 

"Why don't you go inside?" Thorin suggested. "It might take your mind off it. Plus, it's a bit cooler."

 

Balin bowed, and left. Thorin clutched the balcony handles with tight hands, as he stared out. The pines were really folding under the wind, as if Mahal himself had come and pushed the trees down with his hands.

 

Being up on the Tower gave Thorin a sense of serenity and freedom from the burdening responsibilities of his duties. Plus, it also served as a good excuse to get away from his irresponsible brother and his baby sister.

 

A hot gust of wind buffeted his clothes, and sent the flags shaking wildly. A noise like a hurricane pierced the silence that had befallen the dwarves on the balcony. Balin strode out, apparently disturbed by the noise. Just in time.

 

 "Balin, sound the alarm," he commanded, not taking his eyes off the sky. He prayed he was wrong. "Do it now!"

 

"What it is?" Balin looked agitated.

 

"Dragon," he replied grimly. The young dwarf paled, making the crimson of his robes stand out even more.

 

"It cannot be..." he whispered. “I thought they had died out..."

 

Thorin pushed past him and ran inside, leaning over the inside balcony as he did.

 

"DRAGON!" The dwarves rushed around underneath him like ants, as Tower guards pushed past him, readying their weapons. A roar shook the battlements, as a huge, dark shadow swooped down. From its jaws, a curtain of fire rained down upon them.

 

"No!" He pushed the shocked, frozen Balin behind a pillar just as the flames reached them. He shoved the dwarf inside. "SOUND THE ALARM, NOW!"

 

He rallied the Tower guards and hurried down the spiralling stone steps leading from the balcony to the ground. He cursed his grandfather for the design of the staircase.

 

"Thorin," His father, Thrain, came up on his right, his sword in his hand and the light of battle in his eyes. "Dragon eh?"

 

"No time to joke, father," he replied curtly, as they positioned themselves behind the giant gates. "Are the others okay?"

 

"Your mother and your siblings are positioned to make a run for it. They will make it if this infernal dragon manages to get in--"

 

A loud bang punctured his sentence, followed by the sound of a loud grumble. It shook the place, and dust drifted down from the ceiling. Spurts of flames licked the gates, as a fierce, yellow eye glared at them through a crack. Thorin hefted his axe.

 

"Hold your ground! " he shouted in Khuzdul. This was followed by another bang.

 

"He'll never get in," Thrain shouted. "The gates are impenetrab--"

 

The gates burst open and clattered to the ground, sending up a cloud of dust and smoke. Amidst the chaos, a large, reptilian hand curled around the wall, its claws making gouges in the stone. The dragon slithered in, and positioned itself in front of the dwarven cohort.

 

"So," The red scales on its body rippled as the dragon threw back its head and laughed. "This is what the almighty King Thror sends to meet me in battle."

 

"Be gone, lizard!" Thorin thrust his sword at the creature. "Go back to the filthy wasteland you call your home!"

 

The dragon made a low grumbling sound in its body. "A fine insult, Thorin son of Thrain.  I too like to play with words."

 

"Who are you?" Thrain demanded.

 

"I am Smaug, the chiefest and greatest of all calamities," He spread his wings, and rose to his full height. Thorin had to admit he looked quite magnificent. "And I have come with a proposition."

 

"Get out!"

 

"How swiftly you dismiss me," Smaug dropped to his belly. "I have come to play a game of riddles."

 

"Why?" Thorin asked suspiciously. The cunning of dragons was known far and wide, and he knew the dragon hadn't flown all the way to Erebor just to terrify them and play a game. Creatures of such power rarely dilly-dallied in petty things like that.

 

"Send out your finest riddler," Smaug said. "And I will battle him in a game of riddles. If I lose, I will let you slay me where I stand. If I win, however," The dragon bared it's teeth in a terrifying grin. "I will take all your gold and jewels, as well as the permission to do what I want with my opponent."

 

"What's stopping us from spearing you here on the spot?" a dwarf called out.

 

"What's stopping me from roasting all you dwarves on the spot and taking the gold anyway?" The creature shrugged. "If you agree to my game of riddles, there will be no bloodshed if I win or not. I give you my word."

 

"Father," Thorin turned to Thrain. "Should we believe this slinking reptile?"

 

He gave him a troubled look. "I don't want to fight a battle we cannot win. Plus, a dragon's word is binding. If he does win, he'll just take our gold and leave it alone."

 

"I'll let you tell him what we think."

 

"Well?" Smaug demanded.

 

"We agree to your game, dragon," Thrain shouted. "And our representative in your game will be Thorin."

 

Thorin stepped forward when his name was mentioned. He frequently played riddle games with Frerin--this was going to be too easy.

 

"So be it." Smaug arched his neck and lowered his head so that he was looking in front of Thorin.

 

" _At night, they come without being fetched. By day, they are lost without being stolen_."

 

Thorin pondered for a moment. _At night...com without being fetched...lost without being stolen..._

 

"Stars," he replied triumphantly, earning him a round of applause from the dwarves.

 

"Very good," Smaug hissed, his claws clinking on the stone. "Your turn,"

 

" _I drive men mad for love of me. I am easily beaten, but never free_." he recited, hoping it was a good riddle.

 

Smaug answered almost instantly. "Gold,"

 

Damn, this was going to be hard.

 

They battled for what seemed like an age, with each riddle gradually becoming harder and harder to understand. To win a game of riddles, your opponent must fail to answer the riddle you've come up with. Smaug was extremely good with riddles, and he twisted words around to make his own riddles seem more complicated. The Main hall was so silent; you couldn't even hear a single breath.

 

" _I build up castles, I tear down mountains. I make some men blind, but I help others to see_." Smaug had coiled himself into a ball on the floor, resembling a pile of thick, red ropes.

 

"Uh..." Thorin racked his brains, but nothing sprung to mind. He stupidly stood there for a few silence minutes, as he tried to think up on an answer. He turned to shoot his father a glance of despair.

 

"Yes?" Smaug's growl made him turn around again. He gulped, and hoped the consequences wouldn't be dire.

 

"I...can't..." He trailed off lamely.

 

"HA!" Smaug gave a deep, booming laugh as he outstretched his wings, sending a gust of wind into Thorin that knocked him over. He scrambled back, as the dragon towered over him.

 

"I NOW LAY CLAIM TO ALL THE GOLD IN EREBOR!" He clawed his way up a marble pillar, and pointed a long, thin claw at him, yellow eyes blazing like fire.

 

"And you, Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror," he roared. "I curse you, to be rid of your dwarven skin, and be changed into a beast for all eternity!"

 

Was it him, or was Thorin beginning to feel a tingling on his skin?

 

"Thorin!" Thrain shouted. He looked down, just as a wave of pain hit him.

 

He rolled around on the floor in agony, as he felt his body contort and twist. His bones snapped and morphed into a new skeleton, as he felt his teeth burst from his gums and rattle to the floor. Through his blurred, pain-filled gaze, he could see, and feel, jet black hair sprouting from his body. He felt his rich clothing burst, littering the ground with metal clasps and sapphires. His hands and feet shifted into paws, as his yells of agony became animalistic. Soon, the transformation was complete. He staggered to his feet, blood dripping from his jaws. He staggered to his paws, and looked down at his reflection in the polished stone.

 

Looking back at him was a beast resembling a long-limbed wolf. His braids, which signified his title and legacy, swung from his fur. He looked up to see the dwarves staring at him in shock.

 

Suddenly, Smaug spewed forth a jet of flames, which engulfed the cohort of dwarves. They screamed and flailed, as they tried to swat the flames.

 

"And I curse all the dwarves of Erebor, and their descendants!" The dragon clawed its way up a marble pillar and roared at Thorin. "To forget the name of Thorin, and all memories of him!"

 

Slowly, the flames died away, and the dwarves looked around in confusion. Thorin tensed, his new claws curling from his sheaths.

 

"Kill this beast!" Smaug pointed to Thorin. "Drive him away from your homes!"

 

One by one, each dwarf looked at him. Slowly, they drew their weapons and advanced on him.  Thorin looked around in panic, and then spotted the entrance. Seizing the opportunity, he sprinted out, not looking back. His now acute hearing picked up the battle cries of his father and the Tower guards, and knew they were not far behind.

 

And Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror left his title, his home, and the family that had been turned against him.

 

And he never forgot the name of Smaug.

 

 

* * *

 

_T.A. 2912_

 

The young hobbit pulled the colourful, patched robe tighter around his body and shifted closer to the fire. A breeze rattled the small, circular window, making him jump slightly. Oh, how he longed for the Fell Winter to end!

 

"Bilbo!"

 

He turned his head to see a hobbit enter the room. She was very pretty--with hair as black as a raven's wing, and sparkling green eyes that danced with mischief.

 

"Feeling a little cold?" She walked to the young hobbit and began stroking his caramel locks.

 

He tried to pull away. "Mother! I'm not a child anymore!"

 

"You will always be my child," she murmured, but drew her hand away.

 

"I'm going to go see to your father," she said, walking away. "You stay here, okay?"

 

"Of course," Bilbo fixed his gaze back onto the leaping flames. His father had caught the flu, and was confined to his bed every hour of the day. His mother liked to sit with him, and on some days, would fall asleep stroking his hair.

 

He hoped it was such a day.

 

He knew he had luck on his side when he heard gentle snoring coming from his parent's bedroom. Tiptoeing to the entrance, he peeked inside just to make sure. Satisfied by his slumbering parents, he threw off the robes, and changed into a warmer shirt and jacket. Pulling his woollen gloves on, he crept to the door and opened it a crack, making sure he wouldn't make a sound. Quiet as a mouse, he swiftly threw the door open and closed it again silently. Then he set off for the Old Forest.

 

It had ben ages since Bilbo had stepped out the door of Bag End. The Fell Winter had come like an unexpected herd of oliphaunts, bringing blizzards, snow and danger. In the past year, the Brandywine river had frozen over, allowing the White Wolves to cross over and attack the hobbits. Every now and then, a hobbit would disappear, presumably snatched by the wolves.

 

But Bilbo wasn't afraid of that. He wasn't afraid of anything. He was the son of Belladonna Baggins, one of the three remarkable daughters of the Old Took.

 

He skipped across the icy bridge and came to a halt at the edge of the Old Forest. It was one of his favourite places to play, ever since he was young. Being a Took, he was encouraged to explore and have adventures like all the Tooks before him. To most hobbits, the Old Forest was a place of horror. To Bilbo, it was his playground of adventures.

 

He stepped into the trees, feeling the familiar roughness of the bark and the tickling of the dried grass beneath his feet. He always felt safe when he played here, as if someone was watching over him. He ran further into the woods, not caring where he went. Being lost was part of the adventure.

 

Bilbo slowed down as he reached a small clearing, where snow was gently falling onto the decaying leaves that had fallen from the now bare, twisted trees. He flopped down and picked up a leaf, admiring the way the snowflakes clung onto it like small, white bugs. Giggling, he threw the leaves up the air, and watched as they spiralled to the ground.

 

At first, he didn't notice the low growling.

 

But as he played more and more, he realised there was a malicious presence watching him from the shadow of the trees. In fact, there were a lot of malicious presences. He ceased his playing, and tried to pinpoint the noise of the growling that was gradually getting louder. He shivered--he wasn't sure if the White Wolves resided in this part of the woods, but there was rumour of a shadowy beast that stalked the trees. No one had ever seen it clearly, and Bilbo hoped he wouldn't be the first to.

 

"Where are you!" he shouted, trying to show courage. "Show yourself!"

 

As if in answer, a creature stepped out. Bilbo's heart sank as more White Wolves padded out to join the lone one at the head. It snarled, showing white, dripping fangs.

 

Bilbo scrambled to his feet, breaking off the branch of a nearby tree as he did. If he was going to die, he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

 

The nearest wolf lunged at him, and Bilbo lifted the branch to defend himself. It knocked the branch out of his hands, and ripped through his clothes with an almost lazy swipe of its paws. He fell to the ground, blood pumping from the wound and fiery pain spreading up his arm. The wolves sat back and watched him curiously, as he ripped a piece of cloth from his waistcoat and tried to shakily bind his wound. A tear dripped from his eye, but he made no move to wipe it away. The wolves watched, looking almost amused at his attempts. The cloth did nothing to stem the blood as it collected into a pool on the snow.

 

Finally, the same wolf crouched down again, it's body as tensed as a coiled piece of wire waiting to spring. Another tear fell to the ground as he closed his eyes and waited for his imminent death. He prayed to Yavanna that his parents would find his body.

 

But the blinding pain he was expecting never came.

 

He opened his eyes to see a black shadow intercept the wolf. Like fishes, they darted around each other in a graceful dance of death, lunging forward to bite or swipe at each other.  Soon, the white wolf fled, blood running down its white flank. The other wolves followed, howling as they did.

 

The black creature slowly turned around to study Bilbo. It was a strange creature--it looked like a wolf, but with longer legs, and a shaggier coat of jet black.  It's intelligent, ice-blue eyes swept over him, and Bilbo shuddered. Was this creature going to attack him?

 

It stepped forward, and fell to the ground, red blossoming along the ground from it's body like a ghastly flower. Bilbo ran over instinctually and kneeled down. The creature looked up at him, as if it was assessing what he was going to do.

 

"C-can you lean on me?" Bilbo asked. He felt stupid, but it was as if the beast could understand him.

 

To his surprise, the beast staggered to its paws, and leaned on his shoulder. It's tongue flicked out and licked his wound. Bilbo allowed a second to close his eyes, and let the relaxing, rhythmic movement of the tongue to soothe his gash.

 

Then he opened his eyes, and they walked (or limped) slowly back to Bag End. They sneaked through the front door, and Bilbo led him to his bedroom.

 

"Stay here," he whispered, and quietly went off to get bandages.

 

And when the creature did get better, Bilbo took him back to the Old Forest. The hobbit would visit him daily, and bring him leftovers from meals. They developed a system of communication, though Bilbo never did name him, nor did he find out about Thorin's past. When Bilbo's parents died, Thorin was there to comfort him--leaning against the hobbit as Bilbo tangled his fingers into the soft black fur and sobbed. Bilbo took him in soon after his mother's death, and Thorin lived in Bag End for seven years. And there, he lived a life of peace with Bilbo. He could almost forget his past.

 

Until a certain wizard shows up at Bilbo's door... 


	2. One

_T.A. 2935_

 

Thorin knew, that in his life, Bilbo would have to defend himself instead of relying on him.

 

So when Belladonna Took died, Thorin waited a year before finding her sword and placing it at Bilbo's feet.

 

"What's this?" he had asked, putting his mug aside and picking up the weapon, staring at it in wonder. It took some effort to pick up--it _was_ of Elvish make, after all.

 

 _Your mother's sword_ , he had replied, using a series of subtle movements only Bilbo's sharp eyes could pick up. They had devised it all those years ago, when Thorin had saved the hobbit's life.

 

"And why would I need it?" He looked at the beast, slightly confused.

 

_Defense._

 

"But I have you," He reached out to scratch behind his ear.

 

 _I won't always be around._ Thorin's tail twitched impatiently over the floorboards.

 

"So," Bilbo stood up from his armchair. "Where do we start?"

 

 _There's a range of mountains just a three day walk from here._ Using his teeth, Thorin pulled a map of Middle earth out from beneath a stack of books, roughly sending them tumbling to the floor.

 

"You're horrible!" Bilbo exclaimed, trying to gather up his books. Thorin uttered a sharp bark to get his attention, making Bilbo look up.

 

 _This place here_. He clumsily put his paws over the mountain range labelled, _Ered Luin_. _There are folk there that can help you_.

 

He went over to the map and peered intently at the place Thorin had pointed at. "Ered Luin...I'm not sure..."

 

 _It'll be an adventure._ He looked up, making sure Bilbo could see the pleading in his eyes. _Like in the Old Forest, when we were younger_.

 

Bilbo sighed, and Thorin felt a spark of triumph light within him. He knew the hobbit couldn't stand against his gazes of pity. 

 

"Fine," he said finally. His tail wagged in excitement.

 

And so the adventure began.

 

For six years, Bilbo travelled to Ered Luin and back--along the way, learning how to swordfight, trade...all with Thorin at his side. They met Men, Dwarves and Elves alike. Bilbo became the talk of the Shire, and some whispered he had taken after the Tookish side of him instead of the respectable, Baggins side.

 

One day, when he was in the market, a hobbit had yelled at him:

 

"Your father would be rolling in his grave!"

 

Bilbo had gone straight home, and released his tears in the safety of his bedroom.

 

"Do you think my father would've approved of me doing all of this?" He looked at Thorin, a tear dripping down his cheek. He placed a paw on Bilbo's knee.

 

 _Of course he would've. Your mother would've been proud of you._ To be honest, he wasn't actually sure, but _he_ was definitely proud of the little hobbit.

 

In fact, he was so known for his habit of disappearing off to Ered Luin, it attracted a certain wizard.

 

By the name of Gandalf the Grey.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_T.A. 2941_

 

 

Bilbo opened the door to Bag End and stepped inside, propping his walking staff against the wall and hanging his travelling cloak on a nearby peg as he did. As much as he loved travelling, he loved his home as much.

 

He whistled for his friend. That was the name of the black beast that had saved him all those years ago during the Fell Winter. He had decided not to name him, in fear it might've overridden his true name. His friend was perfectly fine with that.

 

He whistled again, a harsh sound that pierced the air. His friend hadn't been able to come to Ered Luin with him this time--he had broken a hind leg when he was out chasing a deer, and so had to stay back and rest. The fool was probably out hunting again in the Old Forest.

 

Bilbo chuckled at himself. He found it hilarious how he treated his friend as a fellow hobbit, even though he was just an animal. Maybe it was the way his ice blue eyes sparkled intelligently, as if they did belong to a Man once...

 

He had suspected, for some time, his friend was not he had seemed. He was way too intelligent for a mere beast, yet, how did he become one in the first place?

 

And there was the matter of his braids.

 

He had first noticed them back in the Fell Winter--smooth, elaborate braids secured by silver and sapphire beads, all etched with a strange, sharp design. He had never seen anything like it, not even in his father's books. Of course, he had never asked his mother--she would've guessed instantly that something was up.

 

He shook off the thought as he set his travelling sack down, and began to rifle through it. He pulled out his carved wooden pipe and the small bag of Longbottom Leaf he had brought along with him for the journey to Ered Luin. He had been selling the leaf there--it was very popular with the inhabitants, but he had managed to save a little bit for himself, as well as buy a lovely knife of Elvish make. He stuck it in a hidden leather sheath on his arm and went outside.

 

Bilbo lit the pipe and sat down, breathing in the fragrant smoke and closing his eyes. It was a rather nice day--the sun was shining and the grass was very green.

 

 Suddenly, he inhaled a whole lot of smoke. Coughing, he opened his eyes to a pale cloud of smoke. As he fanned it away, it revealed a tall figure with a carved staff and a very, pointy hat.

 

"Good morning," he said cautiously, one hand slowly making it's way to the hidden knife in his sleeves. He didn't like the way the stranger's eyes flickered from his hand to the sleeve. The Man seemed familiar, though Bilbo couldn't really place a finger on it. Still, didn't hurt to be careful.

 

"What do you mean," The stranger tipped his head. "Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean it is a good morning whether I want it or not. Or perhaps you feel good, this particular morning, or that this is a morning _to be good on_ , hm?"

 

Suddenly, it clicked. "Gandalf?"

 

The wizard chuckled. "I'm glad you remember me, dear hobbit. Yes, I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means...erm... _me_."

 

"You used to make such _excellent_ fireworks at the Old Took's parties," Bilbo moved sideways, making a space on his bench. "Sit down."

 

"No thank you," he replied. "I am merely here to give a message."

 

"Ookay," Bilbo moved back, and breathed in some smoke. _Odd fellow_. "What is it you wish to ask of me?"

 

"I am looking for someone to share in an adventure, particularly a hobbit. It's very _difficult_ to find anyone in these parts--hardly anyone seems to remember my name, and about half of the hobbits ran to hide in some bush as I walked past."

 

"I should think so!" Bilbo laughed, slinging one of his legs over the other. "Hobbits are simple, quiet folk. You'd be hard-bent to get an adventurous sort of hobbit."

 

"Which is why I have come to you," Gandalf looked at him. "Out of all your Took relatives, _you_ are the most remarkable."

 

"...Thank you," He wasn't sure what to make of that comment, if it was flattery or just fooling around.

 

"Think about it," He began pacing outside the gate. He may have been quite rude, interrupting Bilbo during his smoke, but at least he had the decency to not trespass on other's property. Yes, he may have entered the garden but at least he didn't trample the flowers. " _You_ have the most experience in travelling amongst your relatives, _and_ you are the most proficient with a weapon amongst them."

 

"What--" Bilbo never told anyone he owned weapons, let alone wizards that used to set off fireworks at his grandfather's parties.

 

"Yes, Bilbo Baggins. Your reputation has spread far and wide."

 

He stood up, which wasn't very necessary as he was still considerably shorter than Gandalf. "How--"

 

"I hope you consider my offer," He gathered up his grey cloak and slowly began to head down the path leading to the Shire. "Expect some visitors tonight."

 

"Tonight!?" Bilbo shouted after him. "But you haven't even told me what the adventure is about!"

 

The wizard didn't seem to hear him, as he didn't turn around.

 

 _Meddlesome wizards!_   He huffed in frustration as he waited for Gandalf to disappear entirely from view. As soon as he did, Bilbo quickly hurried back inside, put his pipe on a stand and grabbed his travelling cloak.

 

It was time to visit an old friend.

 

* * *

 

 

Bilbo stood on the edge of the Old Forest and whistled shrilly. The sound seemed to bounce off the gnarled tree trunks and echo eerily into the forest. He hoped his friend could hear him. He smiled when a loud howl answered him almost straightaway.

 

There was a rattle of the tree trunks, as a flock of crows suddenly took flight from the undergrowth, making a racket that they could've probably heard from the Halls of Mandos. A large, black beast padded out of the trees and sat down calmly in front of him.

 

"My old friend," Bilbo smiled.

 

 _Welcome back._ He flicked his ears.

 

"Your tail betrays your happiness to see me," he pointed out. His friend's tail immediately ceased it's wagging.

 

 _I am happy to see that you are well, that's all_. His eyes gave nothing away.

 

Bilbo crossed his arms. "I'm happy to see your leg has mended. Last time I was here, you were _limping_."

 

 _Time is a great healer. You only_ were _gone for 1_ _4 days_. He padded up to Bilbo and began nosing him in various parts of the body. _I assume business went well?_

 

"Very," he said. "They're _crazy_ over the Longbottom Leaf."

 

 _It is the finest weed in the South Farthing_. Using his teeth, he gently tugged at Bilbo sleeves. The knife slipped out of its sheath and fell onto the leaves, and he jumped back slightly.

 

_Elvish make. I assume this is what you bought with all the gold you earned?_

 

"I assumed you smelt the metal," Bilbo picked it up and held it up to the sunlight to admire. "A fine weapon--can't go wrong with Elves."

 

 _You can't go wrong with Dwarvish make either_. Thorin began circling him, like a wolf circling its prey. _Why do you have a weapon hidden in your sleeve, anyway?_

 

 "Just safety precautions," Bilbo carefully placed the knife back in its leather sheath. "One of the Bigfolk came to visit today."

 

_Who was he?_

 

"Why do you assume it's a _he_?" he teased. "Anyway, it was an old friend of my grandfather--his name is Gandalf."

 

The hairs on his friend's back began to rise, until they stood like a black, jagged ridge along his spine. _The wizard? Did he wear grey?_

 

"Yes...?"

 

 _Do not trust him_ , he snarled. _Wizards and dangerous, and trouble follows them where they go, especially the grey one._

 

"We're also expecting visitors tonight," he blurted out. "That's what Gandalf said, I mean."

 

 _I'm coming home with you._ He went up to Bilbo and stood by his side, his eyes flashing stubbornly.

 

"I can defend myself--"

 

 _In fact, I'm going to walk you home_. _You can't stop me_.

 

Bilbo knew there wasn't much he could do. With his friend trotting by his side, he set off for Bag End. His friend usually liked to remain inconspicuous, and liked travelling by dark. He knew it was a big thing for his friend to travel with him by daylight, so he might as well take it seriously.

 

Bilbo looked down, brought to attention by his friend's bark.

 

"What is it now?" he sighed.

 

_Don't forget to buy the salmon._

 

Bilbo groaned.

 

* * *

 

 

"This is all your fault!" Bilbo slammed the frying pan down the table, the pieces of salmon threatening to flip out of the pan. "I didn't _need_ to look more like an outsider _already!_ "

 

The sight of Bilbo and the beast walking into the market had cause quite a stir among the hobbits.

 

In truth, they had given Bilbo snide side looks, but had screamed and fled at the sight of the friend. Sure, it was nice to shop without anyone giving him weird looks this time but in truth, he had never felt more lonely than ever.

 

 _At least we could do our shopping in private._ His friend looked at him.

 

"You _stole_ more pieces of salmon, didn't you?" Bilbo raised his fork in a stabbing gesture. "When I checked my basket, I had _five_ , not the one I had picked out for myself!"

 

_A creature's got to eat._

 

"I am not a thief!" He placed a piece of salmon onto his plate. "I have never stolen a thing in my life!" He sat down at his dining table and proceeded to tuck his napkin into his patchwork robes.

 

 _You might have to one day_.

 

 Bilbo snorted. "Not if I was forced to--I would never steal willingly."

 

_Not even to survive? Since my leg was still mending, I had to steal some of Farmer Maggot's poultry for food._

 

"You did what!?" Bilbo couldn't believe what he was hearing.

 

 _I'm sorry._ There seemed to be genuine guilt in his eyes.  _Damn his eyes!_  Bilbo thought.

 

But before the hobbit could lecture him, the doorbell rang.  His friend lifted his snout and sniffed the air. The hairs on his back began to spike up, as his ice blue eyes widened.

 

"I haven't even had my dinner yet!" Bilbo stood up and began to shooed his friend to his bedroom.

 

"Stay here!" he whispered furiously. "I can't have my guests seeing you--they'll probably run in the opposite direction."

 

 _But it's a dwarf!_ There seemed to be urgency in his gaze.

 

"No time to discuss now," Bilbo looked over his shoulder as the doorbell rang again. "Just lay low, and be _quiet_!"

 

He raced to the door, tying up his dressing robes as he did. _I knew I should've changed earlier!_

 

To be honest, he had forgotten about the visit entirely.

 

 _Dwarves,_ he thought as he went to open the door. _Why would dwarves come here, to Bag End? And what does this have do with Gandalf?_

 

The circle of wood swung open, and in stepped one of the biggest dwarves Bilbo had ever seen. Not even in Ered Luin, they had dwarves this big.

 

"Dwalin, at your service." The dwarf bowed, not taking his steady gaze off Bilbo's face.

 

He gulped--good thing he still had his arm sheath on in case it became rough. "Bilbo Baggins, at yours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, was not expecting the response from the prologue! Thanks to all the people that commented--you made my day!
> 
> And sorry, forgot the mention, the answer to the riddle Thorin failed to guess in the prologue was 'sand'. Pretty weird, huh? I'm still trying to figure out why...


	3. Two

Thorin learnt many things when he was turned into a beast.

 

For one, he learnt that each race of Middle Earth had their distinct smell--he had observed it when travelling with Bilbo through Ered Luin. Men smelt like metal and grass, hobbits like earth and flowers, elves like running water and leaves, and his own race--dwarves--of metal and earth.

 

On top of that, each person has their own unique smell. Bilbo, for example, smelt like a pleasant combination of soap, daisies, mushrooms and fresh bread, with a metallic tang on the side. A nice mixture.

 

When Thorin had smelt the intruder at the door, the hairs on his back immediately began to stand up.

 

 _A dwarf!?_ he had thought in disbelief. _What would a dwarf want with Bilbo? And how does this connect to the wizard?_ He crouched down and moved his ears so he could hear who the stranger was.

 

"Dwalin, at your service." The words floated through the East Hall and into the bedroom.

 

It hit Thorin like a kick to the snout from a rearing buck. There was no mistaking that accent anywhere.

 

 _A descendant of Balin?_ He craned his neck to try catch the next words.

 

"Bilbo Baggins, at your," the flustered voice of the hobbit replied. Thorin knew he was trying to play it down and look weak--some nasty folk once underestimated Bilbo, and paid for it rather dearly.

 

"Where's the food?" Dwalin grumbled, heading down the East Hall. Thorin tensed, but relaxed again as the dwarf headed away. He couldn't take it anymore--he quietly slinked out of the bedroom (well, if Bilbo wanted to keep him in there, he should've closed the door), belly fur brushing the floorboards, and headed to a small niche in the pantry, which would allow him to hide comfortably and observe what was happening in Bilbo's dining room, whilst being smothered in the shadows unseen. There were many hidden scoops like the one he was currently resting in throughout Bag End.

 

"Please don't touch that," Bilbo said, guiding Dwalin away from his untouched dinner. "That is _my_ food, you here me? Go find something else of your fancy in my pantry."

 

With a grunt of surprise (By Mahal, has the intelligence of the average dwarf decreased over the past 200 years?), Dwalin headed to the pantry and began scoffing down a plate of bread rolls, scattering crumbs all over the spotless floor. He was disgusted--living with Bilbo had taught him some valuable lessons in eating properly and in a mannerly fashion.

 

"I just wasn't really ummm... _expecting_ company," Bilbo crossed his arms and stared at the dwarf's back. He could see the faint gleam of the knife in the hobbit's sleeve, and Thorin knew he was itching to grab it and threaten this intruder. Bilbo's blue eyes wandered aimlessly around the stock-filled shelves, and finally rested on Thorin's blue pools. He looked away for a moment, before he turned back, realisation and accusations in its depths.

 

 _You should've locked the door._ Thorin shrugged. He gaped, and closed his mouth again, furious that he couldn't tell him off without alerting Dwalin to his whereabouts.

 

Good thing the doorbell rang again.

 

"That'll be the door," Dwalin muttered, shoving another bread roll in his mouth. Bilbo shot Thorin one last look of irritation before hurrying off to answer the door.

 

He opened his mouth slightly to taste this new scent, ignoring the lingering earthiness of Bilbo and the... _sweatiness_ of Dwalin. The new intruder had a smell very similar to Dwalin, just with a hint of fresh parchment and _freshness_ in general.

 

His heart stopped when he spoke:

 

"Balin, at your service."

 

 _It cannot be._ His heart was pumping so violently, he wondered at how Bilbo and the dwarves couldn't feel beats reverberating through the hobbit hole.

 

"...Good evening," Bilbo replied curtly.

 

"Yes, it is," Thorin could almost imagine the smile on Balin's face as he heard footsteps. "I think it might rain later, though. Am I late?"

 

"Late for what?"

 

"Oh hoh!" Balin exclaimed, as Dwalin turned. The large dwarf took his oversized hand out of Bilbo's too small cookie jar and bared his teeth in what looked like a poor imitation of a grin.

 

"Evening, brother," _So they're brothers then,_ Thorin thought as Balin stepped outside the pantry, giving him the first glimpse of what age had done to his old friend over the last 200 years. It was a bit of a shock to see the young dwarf with the black shock of hair now had a beard and head of hair as white as snow. _I hope I wouldn't look like that, well, if I_ ever _get back to normal_.

 

He couldn't resist a small grumble (his version of laughter) as the brothers slammed their heads together. It was part of dwarf custom that brothers or close friends would greet each other by touching foreheads, whether it'd be just a quick touch or a violent hit. He and Bilbo had witnessed it a lot in Ered Luin--it still appalled the hobbit.

 

The brother began to raid the pantry--Dwalin trying to devour everything in sight and Balin being refined and clean. Thorin did feel a slight twinge of annoyance when Dwalin began pouring some of Bilbo's ale into a wooden mug. Thorin had once managed to the barrel tap with his paw an lick a few precious drops off the metal--Bilbo had good taste in ale.

 

"You know, I'm not sure if you're in the...right house," Bilbo's fingers were twitching as he watched the dwarves turn his pantry upside down. Another thing Thorin had learnt whilst living with Bilbo--never mess with a hobbit's food. "I like visitors as much as the next hobbit."

 

  _Which is none at all_.

 

"I _do_ like to know before they come visiting."

 

Thorin felt a surge of anger on Bilbo's behalf to the dwarves, who were ignoring him as they examined a piece of blue cheese, and then promptly threw it out. _No one should throw perfectly good food out!_

 

"You see, I don't know _any_ of you, so _I'm sorry_." Bilbo put his hands up.

 

The dwarves turned around and looked at him.

 

"Apology accepted," Balin replied, and they resumed. He really wanted to jump out and give the dwarves a piece of his mind, but Bilbo shot him a warning look.

 

And then the doorbell rang again.

 

"Yavanna help me," he heard the hobbit whisper, as his footsteps retreated. A moment later, he came back with two young dwarves and an armful of weaponry.

 

"Fili!" Balin clapped the back of the blonde dwarf, who grinned. _Troublemakers_ , Thorin thought. But what really disturbed him was his eyes--a cool, blue grey that took him back to his days in Erebor.

 

"Mister Dwalin," The other brother had slung an arm around the burly dwarf, and they headed into the dining room, engaging in small talk. What disturbed him even more is that this dwarf was almost the carbon copy of Frerin, the younger brother he left behind.

 

Could it be...these were his children? Or Dis's?

 

The doorbell rang again. Thorin could hear Bilbo chucking the weapons to the floor, and his manic shriek of laughter. As he heard the door creak open, Thorin heard a sudden, heavy thump. He could feel the vibrations through his paws, as shouting floated from the entrance. It seemed that a host of dwarves had piled up against the door and had toppled onto the floor. He breathed in.

 

_So many different scents!_

 

They began to file into the pantry, of all shapes, sizes and colours. He huddled up against the wall, not wanting to reveal himself _just_ yet. A metal boot trod on his paw, making him wince slightly.

 

"Please, not the jam!" Bilbo rushed out of the East Hall, hurriedly tucking his shirt into his suspenders. Though he was shouting at the dwarves, his eyes were fixed on Thorin.

 

 _Don't come out_ , they said. _I'll talk to you later_.

 

The wizard was ambling outside the pantry, counting the dwarves and observing the commotion around without even lifting a finger to help Bilbo. He felt a sense of savage delight when the wizard knocked his head on the chandelier.

 

_Serves you right!_

 

Bilbo had managed to wrestle some food from the dwarves, but another one seemed to swoop by and take the food back again without him noticing. Soon, the pantry was just a room with empty shelves. He wandered in dejectedly, and leaned on a shelf.

 

"What am I going to do, old friend?" he asked. "Don't worry--the stupid dwarves are feasting on _our_ food now. They won't pay attention to a hobbit seemingly talking to himself."

 

 _Then show them who's boss_. _They'll leave you alone if  you show a bit of aggression. Remember Ered Luin?_

 

"Thing is, my friend," Bilbo's shoulders slumped. "There's twelve armed dwarves against a hobbit and a beast. It's not a battle we can win. Look at them--they've _annihilated_ my pantry! I've tried to reason with them, but..." He broke off, distracted by a loud burp emitted by a dwarf. Thorin grumbled to get his attention.

 

 _Then let me come out and give them a piece of my mind_.

 

"Did you hear me properly? Yes, you may be strong, but twelve dwarves is a bit much for you, my friend."

 

_We can take them--we've beaten three full grown Men with ease._

 

"But these are _dwarves_. Their armour is thick, and their swords sharp. By Yavanna, I'm not even wearing armour!"

 

Thorin was silent. This _was_ a battle they couldn't win.

 

"Plus, Gandalf chose me for a reason," Bilbo reasoned. "For the sake of my grandfather's deep friendship with him, I have to try."

 

 _Okay_ , Thorin growled low. _But if they threaten you,_ nothing _is going to stop me from disembowelling them_.

 

"Provided you keep a cool head." Bilbo looked over his shoulder anxiously. The dwarves were standing up, presumably having finished their meal.

 

 _Also, I noticed the dwarf with the triangular hairstyle pocketing your silverware before,_ Thorin mentioned. _You might want to confront him_.

 

"Blasted dwarves..." Bilbo muttered as he went off to interrogate the said dwarf. He watched with an inside chuckle as Bilbo grabbed a fork from the pocket of the thieving dwarf and held it up to his face, yelling loudly. He also grabbed a doily from another pocket and went absolutely ballistic. Thorin's sharp eyes widened as he realised it was one of Belladonna's doilies.

 

 _That dwarf better run for his dear life_.

 

"What on earth is the matter?" The wizard swooped down like a grey eagle and distracted Bilbo, allowing the thief to escape. _Meddlesome beings_.

 

"Bebother and confusticate these dwarves!" he yelled, earning a few strange looks from the others. It was as if _Bilbo_ was doing something improper, instead of vice-versa. Oh, how Thorin wanted to scare them all away. It was only the word of the hobbit holding him back.

 

Suddenly, plates were flying everywhere. It hurt his head to try and track who was throwing which plate. Bilbo was just standing in the middle of this chaos, complaining so loudly Mahal and Yavanna could probably hear it.

 

"THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!" He caught a flying plate out of mid-air and slammed it onto the table. "DO NOT BLUNT THE KNIVES--I USE THOSE TO STAB ILL-MANNERED DWARVES LIKE YOU LOT!"

 

"Listen to this feisty hobbit!" A dwarf with an odd-shaped hat grinned. "He says we'll _blunt the knives_!"

 

The dwarves proceeded to sing a jaunty tune that they improvised on the spot--dancing and laughing as plates and silverware flew everywhere. He could see the dwarf thief snatching forks out of mid air and pocketing them secretly. _Disgraceful_.

 

"C'mon Kili!" Fili yelled at his dark brother, who threw him a plate as he smoked. Kili then picked up a knife and threw it at a dwarf with salt-and-pepper hair. Thorin could see the dull gleam of the piece of axe in his forehead as he turned around to catch it, just centimetres from his eyes. Thorin seized the opportunity to slip out from his hole, sneak around in the shadows and sit in another niche in the dining area. He had a feeling they would return there soon--he had picked up that another dwarf was late for the 'meeting'.

 

But what really puzzled him was: where were these dwarves from? Ered Luin? Moria? _Erebor_? It was all a mystery to him.

 

"THAT'S WHAT BILBO BAGGINS HATES!" The dwarves roared, and they burst into raucous laughter. Amidst all the dangerous plate and cutlery throwing, they had managed to pile all the dishes into a tottering tower, and all the forks and spoons sorted and placed in a neat pile next to the plates. Bilbo stumbled into the dining room, red in the face and slightly out of breath. But when he saw the neatly stacked plates and the cutlery, his frown disappeared, and the corners of his mouth turned upwards. Thorin found it endearing when he did that.

 

No. That was _not_ acceptable.

 

But abruptly, the laughter stopped when there was a pounding on the door. Gandalf turned to the look at the door, the pipe still in his hands.

 

"He's here."

 

Thorin breathed in the scent of the newcomer.

 

It was familiar. Very familiar indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm...I wonder who the newcomer is...it's pretty easy to guess anyway xD
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos! It's like, the fuel for this story ya know? ;)


	4. Three

"He's here."

 

Bilbo's only thought was: _Yavanna help me_. He was already sick of the dwarves, and they'd only been here for less than an hour. He didn't need another dwarf coming to wreak havoc all over again.

 

He sighed as he plodded off to answer the door, Gandalf and the dwarves following closely behind. He caught a flash of ice blue as he passed the dining room--his friend must've moved places during all the commotion.

 

The door opened to reveal a single dwarf, his back turned to him as he admired the stars.

 

"Master Frerin," He turned around at Gandalf's greeting. He had the look of Kili, with his youthful face and his brown locks. The only difference was that this dwarf had a clipped beard, and his eyes were a piercing blue. He was dressed in a dark green garb (though it was a different shade to Dwalin's) and a robe that was lined with tawny fur.

 

 _Must run in the family_ , Bilbo thoughts drifted to Fili, who had the exact same eye colour and shape, as well as the furry cloak. Bilbo didn't really like clothes with animal fur on them--reminded him too much of his friend.

 

"I got slightly side-tracked," Frerin stepped in, looking around Bag End. "All these holes and hills look the same."

 

"I'm sorry," Gandalf said. "Maybe I should've put some kind of marker on the door."

 

 _Not while I'm still breathing_.

 

"Tried asking some folks for directions too," the dwarf continued, as if the wizard hadn't spoken at all. "A very impolite lot--they refused to answer and ran away."

 

"Maybe it's you," Bilbo blurted out unintentionally. "Most hobbits don't like the look of outsiders, let alone armed dwarves!"

 

He shivered as the dwarf turned his gaze on him. The look was strangely familiar, though he didn't remember Fili giving him such a look.

 

Gandalf cleared his throat. "Frerin, may I introduce you to Master Bilbo Baggins of Bag End. Bilbo, allow me to introduce the leader of this Company--Prince Frerin of the Lonely Mountain."

 

"You are the hobbit, yes?" he asked. At least he was polite about it. "I'd never really heard of you until Gandalf recommended you."

 

"Recommended me for what?" He couldn't shake off the feeling he had met this dwarf once.

 

Frerin laughed. "You haven't told him, Gandalf? It matters not anyway," He looked at the other dwarves, and then back again at Bilbo. "He looks more like a _grocer_ than a burglar."

 

 _Burglar?_ He turned to ask Gandalf, but he was already heading off to the dining room, along with Frerin and the other dwarves. Not forgetting his manners, he quickly prepared a bowl of soup for this _Frerin_ to have--he was probably hungry after his journey.

 

When Bilbo arrived in the dining room, all the seats in the dining room were occupied.

 

"Is that for me?" Frerin reached out and took the bowl and the wooden spoon. "Thank you for your generous hospitality."

 

"Now, down to business," Dwalin rubbed his hands together. "What news from Bree? Did they all come?"

 

"Envoys from all seven kingdoms!" Frerin announced, taking a sip of his soup. Judging by the fact he didn't make a face as he drank, Bilbo guessed it must've been alright.

 

"What does Dain say?" he pressed eagerly. "Are the Iron Hills with us?"

 

"What do you think?" He threw his hands up. "Do you see Dain or any of his reinforcements here? No, he says he's helped us enough--this quest is ours and ours alone."

 

Bilbo could tell by the dwarves' faces, this wasn't a good sign.

 

"Bilbo, a little more light please," Gandalf requested, taking out a folded piece of long parchment. He went off as the wizard requested, shakily lighting the wick of the candle he had fetched. He cast a quick glance at his friend, who was retreating further into the shadows.

 

 _I know this dwarf,_ he signed.

 

 _Who is it?_ Bilbo mouthed.

 

There was a long pause. _A dwarf I knew from a long time ago, though he probably does not remember who I am_.

 

This made the hobbit consider how old he thought his friend really was--he had never divulged information from his past. But he shook off the thought and hurried back to the table, where Frerin, Gandalf and a dwarf with a funny hat were poring over a map--the piece of parchment Gandalf was taking out before.

 

"Bilbo," he beckoned, as he held the candle over the map. He pointed to the painted mountain in the centre of the paper, where a red dragon was inked flying over it.

 

"The Lonely Mountain," he read, sounding out the syllables.

 

"Aye, the portents have said it is _time_ ," A red head dwarf slammed his meaty hand onto the table for effect, as he looked at the dwarf next to him.

 

" _When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end_." he said. He had grey curly hair, and a varnished ear trumpet that gleamed in the flames of Bilbo's candle.

 

"Beast?" he inquired. He suddenly thought of his friend.

 

"This one here," To his relief, Frerin pointed to the red dragon on the map. "This here is Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest of all calamities."

 

"It would take an army to vanquish such a mighty foe. And as you can see, we number just 13," Balin put in, a serious expression on his face. "Not 13 of the best, nor _brightest_."

 

 _Idiots,_ Bilbo remarked as they began squabbling amongst themselves. He swore he saw one of the older dwarves give Kili a glance, but he hoped that was a trick of the light.

 

"We may be few in number," Fili's voice was raised over the others, which quietened them down. "But we are _fighters_ \--all of us--to the _last one!_ "

 

"And don't forget, we have a _wizard_ in our Company," Kili shouted, looking very pleased with himself. He reminded Bilbo of some of the Tookish tweens, or just tweens in general. "He must've killed _hundreds_ of dragons in his lifetime."

 

"Well, I--" Gandalf started, but the old dwarf that had supposedly stared at Kili interrupted.

 

"How many then?"

 

"How many what?" he asked, looking unconcerned as he lifted his pipe to breath in some smoke.

 

"How many dragons?"

 

To Bilbo's amusement, Gandalf inhaled a bit too sharply, and began coughing on the smoke.

 

"GIVE US A NUMBER!" The dwarf stood up and began arguing, which prompted all the other dwarves to stand up, and they began shouting amongst themselves. The dwarf with salt-and-pepper hair even began threateningly shaking his fists at Dwalin.

 

Frerin rolled his eyes, and clapped Gandalf on the back. Then he stood up and fixed the all the dwarves with an icy glare. One by one, they ceased their yelling, and shamefully sat down in their seats again, though some were still glaring at opposite sides of the table.

 

"There is a dragon that sits on our gold, and you want to stand here and bicker?" His voice was deadly quiet. "Our people have been enslaved for over a century--under the control of a filthy _dragon_ who cannot craft even a ring for himself. I remember when Smaug came," His voice shook. "I remember those who were engulfed in the firestorm."

 

Even in the shadows, Bilbo could see his friend's ears prick up in interest.

 

"So do we sit back in our chairs?" Frerin glared at the dwarves. "Or do we _seize this chance to take back Erebor!?"_

 

The dwarves began cheering and whooping, as he stood in the midst of it, happily shouting a word he didn't understand. It must've been Khuzdul--the secret language of the dwarves.

 

"But the front gate is sealed, and all entrances guarded," Balin sighed. "There's no way to get into that mountain unseen--Smaug has made sure of that."

 

"Wrong," From his sleeve, Frerin drew out an ornate key. "From my grandfather to my father, this key has come to me. If you look here," He used to a key to point to a red 'x' on the map. "This is the location of the hidden door that will take us to a hidden corridor in the halls of Erebor. From there, we will navigate ourselves."

 

"Which is why we need a burglar," Gandalf turned on his chair to give Bilbo a knowing look, who slowly backed up so he was against the wall. He could feel his friend's fur brush his leg, and his warm breath on his calf.

 

"Whatever you've been brought to believe, I am _not_ a burglar," Bilbo put a hand up as he inched closer again. "I have never stolen a thing in my life, unless you count my tween years when I once stole mushrooms from Farmer Maggot, but I was stupid then."

 

"Tween?"

 

"Farmer Maggot?"

 

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Master Baggins," Balin exchanged a glance with his neighbours. "Tell me, have you ever used a weapon in your life?"

 

"Ye--"

 

"Finishing what I was saying before," The old dwarf shook his head. "He hardly looks burglar material."

 

 _But hang on,_ Bilbo thought indignantly. _You didn't let me finish m sentence!_

 

"Aye, the wild is no place for gentle folk who can't fight nor fend for themselves." Dwalin muttered, casting a critical eye over him.

 

Bilbo couldn't stand being pushed around and judged any longer. Like his friend had advised, he was going to use his secret weapon.

 

 

Quick as a flash, he whipped out his hidden knife and stabbed it into the table between Dwalin's outstretched fingers. Some of the dwarves jumped back in surprise, and the dwarf stared, wide-eyed, at the knife just inches from his skin.

 

As if on cue, his friend jumped out of the shadows, tensed and pointed ears flat on his head, as he snarled and snapped his jaws. Frerin stood up--his chair flying into the wall--and drew his sword, his eyes blazing. Some of the others stood up and drew their various weapons. One dwarf even fell of his chair in surprise.

 

"Gentle folk my _backside_." he warned through gritted teeth, as he pulled the knife out of the table and shoved it back into the hidden sheath. His friend relaxed and sat next to him, his ears pricked up in his 'alert mode'. All the dwarves except Frerin sheathed their weapons.

 

"You see, Master Dwarf," Gandalf, however, was the only one smiling. "He fills your expectations quite well."

 

Frerin glared at them for a moment, his eyes flickering between the two of them, and then put his sword away.

 

"Yes, _they_ do." He stalked out of the dining room. "Don't forget to give him the contract!"

 

But Bilbo could see that some of the dwarves were regarding him with suspicion. When Balin was in the process of pulling out yet another long piece of parchment, Bofur stayed his hand and looked at the beast.

 

"Where does your... _friend_ come from?" he asked nervously.

 

"He saved my life over 30 years ago," He tilted his chin up. "During the Fell Winter of Middle Earth--he has been my faithful companion ever since."

 

"How do we know it won't attack us in our sleep?" Dwalin towered over him, but it didn't faze him anymore. "Animals like that should be caged up, or at least restrained."

 

 "It's not an 'it', it's a _he_ ," Bilbo retorted, one hand resting on his friend's head. "And I can assure you, _he_ won't tear your throat out unless I tell him to."

 

"I agree with Bofur--how can we trust this hobbit?" A dwarf with a meticulously braided beard stood up and addressed Gandalf, not even looking directly at him. "I mean, he doesn't tell us he owns a beast, nor did he inform us he was hiding a knife in his sleeve! _Nori_ here," He gestured to the dwarf who was trying to make off with his cutlery and mother's doilies. "Is a more experienced person for this job."

 

"Well that's the first time you've acknowledged my 'unique abilities'," Nori muttered.

 

"If Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!" Gandalf stood up, causing a shadow to fall over the small room. Dori shrank away as the wizard thundered on.

 

"Anyone who doubts my decisions should pack their bags and go!" His voice quietened, as he sat down back in his miniature chair, looking more like an old, kindly man instead of a thundering wizard. Bilbo had never seen him go off like that--it looked completely out of his wise nature, and sort of frightened him as well. He dug his fingers further into the black fur. It gave him security and comfort.

 

"Hobbits are very light on their feet, _and_ they can be unseen by most if they wish to," Gandalf explained. "And since the dragon is more accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of _hobbit_ will most likely intrigue him, and give him less chance of incinerating Bilbo on the spot."

 

"But what of the beast?" asked the young brunette dwarf, eyeing his friend with curiosity rather than wariness.

 

"I'd like to think of it as an addition to the Company," Bilbo answered. "His sharp hearing and sense of smell will pick out enemies before we notice them, which will give us an advantage if we are ever ambushed. Plus, my friend here is very intelligent."

 

"How intelligent?" The dwarf with the hearing horn peered at him closely.

 

"Well, for one, he can understand everything we're saying," This caused a bit of restlessness amongst the dwarves. "So that makes him _very_ intelligent."

 

"But if he does sense intruders are coming," Nori looked up from his knife sharpening. "How will he warn us without warning the enemy?"

 

 _How much proof do these dwarves need?_   "My friend and I, over the years, have developed a system of communication only we can understand, _which_ ," he added quickly. "We can prove to you right now."

 

They looked at each other, the dwarves and Gandalf watching on with interest.

 

 _The blonde one has an extra knife hidden in his coat, if you want to know,_ he offered helpfully.

 

"Kili, right?" He pointed at the fair-headed dwarf.

 

"Fili." he corrected.

 

"Whatever, you have a hidden knife in your coat that you didn't give to me when you walked into my house. If you would like me to specify..." He observed the twitching of his friend's tail. "...It's right at the back, possibly in a sheath hidden in a secret pocket only _you_ and possibly your brother would know."

 

"Hey, I didn't know that!" Kili swatted him brother, who dodged out of the way just in time. Fili shrugged.

 

"It was meant to be a secret. But anyway, Mister Baggins got the location spot on."

 

"So _now_ will you stop asking questions?" He crossed his arms and glared at them challengingly.

 

 _What a suspicious bunch._ His friend's tail curled around his front paws.

 

Dwalin sighed. "I guess we should give him the contract."

 

"Right then," Bofur stood up, all traces of cautiousness gone. "We're off!"

 

"It's just the usual," Balin held out the long piece of parchment. "Out of pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth."

 

"Funeral arrangements?" he murmured to his friend. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement.

 

Bilbo unfolded the contract, and they watched as it unfolded itself down to the floor.

 

"Well, that's our reading done and dusted for the night." he joked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I couldn't help noticing the little conversation going on in the comments...
> 
> For further clarification, this story won't exactly follow what happened in the movies or the books (that's why it's called an AU, duh xD) For example, in my story, Martin Freeman could appear in Mirkwood for some random reason unknown to mankind (I won't though, don't worry but could you imagine it ^^) so...yeah, anything could happen. I was actually about to make Fili the leader of the Company, but it didn't seem to...work. 
> 
> I was also contesting with whether Frerin should have a title (you know, like 'Ironfist' or 'Oakenshield') but then I couldn't find a good enough reason (and name). 
> 
> Also, the little exclamation Bilbo makes when the dwarves are singing 'Blunt the Knives' is my all-time fave line ever ^^


	5. Four

Thorin woke up in Bilbo's bed, the halfling's fingers resting in his scruff and the contract lying idle on the floorboards. He could pinpoint murmuring and clanging coming from the kitchen, and he knew it was those sounds that woke him up. He and Bilbo had a late night last night-- carefully reading through the highly meticulous contract and making sure they knew what they were agreeing to if they signed it. Exhaustion must've overwhelmed them, because Thorin didn't remember falling asleep. He let out a whining yawn and lifted his head.

 

"Good morning," Bilbo opened his eyes, apparently disturbed by the movement. "What time is it?"

 

 _Just after dawn_ , he replied.

 

"Really?" He sat up and stretched his arms out in front of him. Suddenly, his brow furrowed.

 

"What happened to the dwarves?"

 

 _They're in the kitchen,_ Thorin jumped off bed, landing lightly onto the floor. _Their noise woke me up--only Yavanna knows what they're doing_.

 

"Damn those dwarves!" He stood up. There was no need to change--he had slept in the clothes he had worn last night. "We better stop them before they destroy my house even further."

 

Thorin craned his ears. _I don't think they are_.

 

He snorted. "What else would they be doing?" He began to walk out of the bedroom.

 

The beast barked. _Wait!_ He gently but firmly picked up the contract by a corner and took it to Bilbo. He regarded it like a present he didn't like.

 

"That," he said grimly. "Well, there aren't any pots of ink in this room, so we'll have to do in the study."

 

They headed out to the pantry at first, but then realised it had been demolished by their "guests" the previous night. The pair veered off their intended course and headed for the kitchen, where they found a strange sight.

 

There were dwarves, _yes_ _dwarves,_ (Thorin couldn't believe his acute vision that had never really failed him in the past) washing the dishes, stacking them and placing them in neat piles on the storage shelves.

 

"Good morning!" Kili greeted cheerfully, stacking a pile of dishes on the shelves. It was easy to put names to a face for Thorin now--since everyone had a unique smell, it was easy to tell who was who. Plus, this boy was his kin, so he would make sure to pay attention to him.

 

"Frerin told us to clean up!" Fili was washing some bowls alongside the salt-and-pepper dwarf, which he knew was called Bifur.

 

"He also kind of...told us off," The brunette scuffled his feet. "We're sorry for trashing your house, Bilbo."

 

 _How sincere_. Thorin butted Bilbo's leg, to remind him about the contract still in between his teeth.

 

"Oh yes, if you'll excuse me," he muttered. "I must go off to my study and sign this contract."

 

"Sign it?" Fili looked up, incredulity written across his face. "Are you--"

 

"Yes." He firmly nodded.

 

"Great! I'll go tell him!" Kili raced off before Bilbo could even open his mouth.

 

"He does that," The blonde explained, the corners of his mouth twitching. "You'll get used to it."

 

Bilbo nodded, and they headed off to the study. Along the way, they noticed dwarves sweeping the floor, positioning the chairs and basically putting the house back to the way it was before they came.

 

"Odd brothers, aren't they?" he commented. "Don't you think?"

 

 _Very_ , Thorin flicked an ear.

 

"I can tell there's something wrong, you know."

 

 _There's nothing wrong, don't worry_. He kept his head down.

 

"Do they remind you of something from your past?"

 

He stopped in his tracks. How would the hobbit know? He had never revealed his upbringing to another soul.

 

"Ah hah," Bilbo murmured triumphantly.

 

 _Please don't ask any more questions,_ Thorin lifted his head and fixed him with a pleading gaze. _I will tell you, when the time is right_. It wouldn't be that long anyway. He was positive the dwarves were going to recognize the braids hidden under his fur.

 

He looked unconvinced. Usually, he would buckle under this certain gaze, but dealing with the dwarves had probably toughened him up. "When the time is right."

 

They walked, in silence, to the study.

 

"Contract please," Thorin put his paws on the messy desk to stabilise himself, and placed the parchment on an awkward angle. Bilbo straightened it, and grabbed a quill, dipping it into a nearby inkwell.

 

"Burglar... _Bilbo Baggins_ ," he said aloud, as he wrote his name on the parchment. He flourished his hand when he wrote the last letter of his name, and folded the contact up with one hand, using the other to put the quill aside and place a lid over the inkwell. It was unlikely he was going to use it again, in a long time anyway.

 

"So," Bilbo almost careered into Frerin, who was standing outside of the study waiting for them. Thorin thought it wasn't necessary to tell him he was there. "My nephew told me you had signed the contract."

 

 _Ah, Frerin's his uncle. That means these are Dis's children_. He could see the resemblance now-- he could see Dis looking out at him from Fili's eyes, and the way she smiled from Kili. 

 

"Yes, it's here," Bilbo shakily handed him the contract. Frerin took it, narrowing his eyes at Thorin. On instinct, he growled softly.

 

Yet another advantage of being a wolf was that he could detect certain emotions. Also due to the fact he couldn't speak properly to anyone anymore, he had also become a keen observer of body language. At the moment, a mix of feelings were coming off Frerin.

 

 _Doubt_. He thinks the hobbit won't be able to cope in the wild. He's also unsure of leading the Company, as well as thinking he might be leading them to their doom.

 

 _Excitement_. This was probably an adventurous soul--he probably dreamed of the day Smaug would be slayed, like Thorin did himself.

 

And  _fear_. Thorin didn't know why he felt that. He might be confusing it with  _doubt_.

 

Frerin folded up the parchment and placed it in his coat. "Well, Master Baggins," He gave him a small smile. "Welcome to the Company."

 

"Thank you," Bilbo dipped his head respectfully. "I shall be honored to travel with you."

 

"I shall take this to Balin to check for signs of fraud, identity theft or for forgery," He patted the coat. "Otherwise, when you've finished preparing for the journey, meet us in the dining room--there are plans to be discussed."

 

"Forgery? Identity theft!?" Bilbo spluttered, but the dwarf had already walked away.

 

* * *

 

 It had not taken long for Bilbo to pack his things--he didn't need much for this journey anyway. The dwarves were waiting for him outside his gate when they walked out of Bag End. They had made sure that all the silverware and valuables were tucked in various hiding spots, in case the Sackville-Baggins decided to go snooping in their absence. 

 

"Master Burglar," Frerin dipped his head slightly as Bilbo closed the gate. "Do you know of our plans?"

 

"We're meeting Gandalf somewhere, right?" He rested a hand on Thorin's head. "No doubt you know where to go,"

 

Frerin shuffled his feet, reminding Thorin of some of the tweens when they did something naughty. "I was hoping that you could navigate us around here."

 

"Right," Bilbo exchanged an amused glance with the beast. "Is that why you're all milling outside my house like a cluster of hungry cats?"

 

"It's not that I can't read directions on a map," Frerin blustered. "It's that...I thought it would be better for you to lead us around this place, since it is your home."

 

"Okay," He looked at the sky, trying to calculate the angle of the sun to determine thehour. "So, where are we going?"

 

"The Green Dragon Inn-- Gandalf told us to meet him there at ten o'clock sharp."

 

"That's not far from here," Bilbo set off down the path, Thorin at his side. A scuffling behind him said that the dwarves were following. "Really, you should just follow the path, and you'll see a sign pointing in the direction of the inn."

 

"It'll be an age before I can navigate myself around this place," His sharp hearing picked up the muttering of a dwarf. "With all these identical holes and hills."

 

They travelled through Hobbiton with, sadly, a lot of cacophony. Every hobbit that saw them as they did their shopping (which to say, was a lot), they immediately began running in the opposite direction as fast as their chubby legs could run, whilst bawling loudly about fierce dwarves, an armed hobbit and a black bear.

 

"Lovely folk you have living around here Master Baggins," Kili murmured, as a hobbit lass--a minor third cousin of Bilbo--shrieked and hid behind a tree. "I assume some of thesehobbits are relatives of yours?" 

 

"No doubt," Bilbo replied cheerfully. "Everyone's related in Hobbiton." Thorin had never seen him look happier. And he liked it when Bilbo was happy. It made himself happy.

 

When they finally arrived at the inn, Gandalf was waiting for them outside the place where they tethered the ponies or horses for folk staying at the inn. He was blowing huge smoke rings into the blue sky, that could rival even Bilbo's.

 

"I was wondering whether you fellows got lost," the wizard commented. "Not many beings can arrive one minute before the designated time they've been set."

 

"Well we did," Gloin shouted. He was a dwarf with a magnificent red beard and the scent of copper surrounding him. "You promised us rides for the journey."

 

"Patience, Master Gloin," He waved a lazy hand at the building behind him. "You'll find 14 ponies waiting for their masters inside there."

 

Grumbling, the dwarf was quickly swallowed up by the darkness of the stables. The other dwarves filed in, bumping into each other as they did.

 

"Ah, Bilbo," Gandalf greeted the hobbit, nodding to Thorin in acknowledgment. "I knew you'd come--I never doubted you for a second."

 

"Indeed," he said stiffly, placing a hand on Thorin's head. He could sense the uneasiness rolling off the hobbit in waves. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find my ride before some dwarf steals it." Before Gandalf could reply, Bilbo went inside, followed closely by the black beast. The building was dimly lit by the weak sunlight streaming in from the small windows, but he managed to manoeuvre himself around the dwarves' legs and guide Bilbo to a pony with no rider.

 

"A fine ride," Bilbo said to Thorin, stroking the pony's thick mane. "Shame I can't ride."

 

"That's easy, Mr Boggins!" Kili's pony trotted over, her rider already sitting on her back. "We can teach you." Before Thorin could figure out who "we" was, Fili came over, also on his pony.

 

"It's fine," he said hastily. "I can walk the whole journey--I'm very used to walking long distan--"

 

"Don't be a fool," Fili interrupted, grinning. "You can't _possibly_ walk the whole way."

 

"Here, let me help you up!" Kili's hand reached out to grab Bilbo's shirt. On instinct, a growl rumbled in Thorin's chest. The dwarf withdrew his hand, glancing warily at him.

 

"It's fine," Bilbo said, giving him a look that made his growling subside. "There's no harm in trying something new, anyway,"

 

Thorin watched as the hobbit clumsily scrambled onto the pony, helped up by the brothers. He could see he was in discomfort as Bilbo squirmed on his saddle and adjusted his position every five seconds.

 

"See? Now you know how to ride a pony!" Fili announced triumphantly.

 

"Fili! Kili! Leave him alone," Frerin yelled from outside. "It's time to go anyway."

 

"See you outside!" The brothers left, laughing and chatting as they did.

 

"Well old friend," Bilbo awkwardly gripped the reins of his pony, as he stared down at Thorin. "This is going to be a long ride indeed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hey, I'm back.
> 
> I don't have much access to a laptop anymore, so this shall be updating more slowly :/ but it is still going.


	6. Five

Bilbo rubbed his sore backside and winced. The black mound of fur by the fire lifted his head and gazed impassively at him.

 

 _Stop complaining, will you?_ His eyes seemed to say.

 

"Well, _you're_ not the one with the sore backside," Bilbo retorted. "You're not the one who's been travelling on a pony for countless hours. That saying, my ears hurt as well, listening to those dwarves bickering about petty manners all day."

 

_Talk to me again when you've walked for what seemed like endless distances.My feet feel like they're on fire._

 

For the whole day, without a break, Bilbo, the dwarves and Gandalf had been on ponyback (horseback for Gandalf) all day. This had led him to an uncooperative pony, a sudden allergy to horse hair and an extremely painful bottom. When they had stopped for the night, he had needed help to get off his pony (which was humiliating, to say the least) and he could barely sit. He had been standing for a few hours, trying to alleviate the pain whilst moaning to himself and his friend, who had chosen not to listen, judging by the way he had covered his ears up with his front paws.

 

"You know, I think that's pretty funny," Kili spoke up. He was sitting in a small alcove with his brother, absent-mindedly carving something from a block of wood in his large hands. "How you have your own communication."

 

"Don't dwarves have their own languages and things?" Bilbo watched the wood flakes fall to the ground, making a small pile at Kili's feet.

 

"If you're talking about Khuzdul and Iglishmêk, then yes, we _do_ have our own language," Fili put in. "But only as a race, not individuals."

 

"Have you ever thought about making a new language between you and your brother only?"

 

"Well...no." he replied sheepishly.

 

"Then why don't you?" These brothers amused him greatly.

 

"We haven't the time." the brunette said.

 

"It only took my friend and I about a year and a few months," Bilbo grabbed his blanket and arranged it into a pile near the fire. He gingerly sat down, and pain stabbed at him. He tried to ignore it as he continued. "And we hobbits only have a lifespan of about one hundred, give or take a few years."

 

"Really?" Fili stared at him with incredulity. "How old are you?"

 

"Fifty."

 

"That makes you very young in dwarf terms," Kili was shaking his head. "I'm only seventy-seven myself, and Fili's eighty-two."

 

"If you were hobbits," Bilbo began. "That would make you _extremely_ old. How long do dwarves live for?"

 

"Two hundred and fifty, though since we are of the Line of Durin, we live longer, and we're taller than most dwarves as well."

 

"And more handsome," Kili grinned. "Though I think my brother here was looked over by Mahal when he was choosing which dwarves should be tall."

 

The blonde swatted his brother, who ducked out of the way just in time.

 

"So, what would that make our ages in hobbit terms?" he asked.

 

"Hm," Bilbo tried to calculate the figures in his head. "That would make you teo about thirty and thirty-two respectively. But I suppose that means dwarves are wiser?"

     

 _Not according to these two_. His friend's jaws opened in a gaping yawn, revealing the long canines. _These dwarves remind me of tweens._

 

Seeing the brothers scuffle, Bilbo had to admit his friend was right.

 

"So, what would be the 'hobbit age' of a dwarf who's nineteenth's birthday has just passed?"

 

Bilbo's head turned to see Frerin take a seat beside him. The familiar, icy gaze seemed  to strip him to his core, as if the dwarf was examining his secrets.

 

"Tell me, please," His voice held the faintest trce of interest. "I've never been particularly good with numbers."

 

"Hm," he pondered for a short moment. "That would make said dwarf about seven years of age. Why do you ask?"

 

He was silent as he stared at the dancing flames, his shoulders hunched over as countless memories flickered through his eyes. Finally, what seemed like an age, he spoke:

 

"That was my age when Smaug the Deceiver came to Erebor, and took our gold."

 

Bilbo was so stunned, he didn't even notice that Fili and Kili had stopped their squabbling.

 

"Though only one perished in the dragonfire, something died within me that day," Frerin continued. "It is not in a dwarf's nature to be controlled, and I couldn't stand Smaug's rule. Each day, he would breathe smoke and command us, as he sat on our treasure hoard like an unmoving stone. Even though no one was harmed throughout this period, I felt miserable. I wanted this dragon gone, but no one ever spoke up against him--they were too afraid of the consequences.

 

Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore. I challenged Smaug, against the will of my Grandfather and Father, in the only he could be challenged: to a game of riddles. We tested our wits against each other for days, until I finally couldn't answer a riddle he had set for me. He offered me a choice: stay and be at his beck and call until the rest of my days, or be exiled and never return. Gathering all those who were loyal to me, I turned my back on Erebor and headed for the Iron Hills, where I knew my uncle, Náin, would give me shelter. I went with my sister, Dorin son of Darin--a distant cousin--, Gróìn son of Farin--another cousin--Balin and Dwalin, and their father, Fundin.

 

But we could not stay for long. Conflict arose in Moria, and we were called to fight. A band of orcs from Mount Gudabad had besieged the ancient dwarf kingdom, and it was our duty to unite and claim it. I managed to slew their leader, Azog the Defiler, but not before he claimed the lives of King Thror and Thrain. " His voice wavered slightly, but he continued nonetheless. "In his dying breath, my father passed on a key and map, and told me they would help me find a secret way into Erebor, and then I would take back our homeland. I didn't want to leave my father's body lying amongst filthy orc corpses, but I knew Smaug had sent spies, to see if I would show up to the battle. They had seen me fight alongside Náin. So after the battle, I left with my loyal comrades, so as not to endanger the dwarves of the Iron Hills.

 

When we finally reached Ered Luin--the Blue Mountains.in your tongue-- I established homes for my faithful friends and my sister. She met a dwarf who fled the mines of Moria for a new life, and they married, giving birth to my nephews. Dorin met a lass and made a family for himself. Though he died soon after, Dori--his son--and his spouse journey with me. Oin and Gloin, Gróìn's sons, also chose to accompany me, and so have Balin and Dwalin. And then there are Bifur, Bofur and Bombur--miners from Moria looking from a new life, with no knship to me whatsoever. Yet, they chose to come with me on this long and dangerous journey. And you, Bilbo. A being so unlike the rest of your kind and not of my race, but you chose to come anyway. And for that, I am grateful."

 

Bilbo was so enthralled in the story, it had escaped his notice that all the dwarves were standing up, and staring at their leader with a new look of fear and admiration. His friend's ears were pricked, and he was studying Frerin with an unreadable gaze.

 

"Well," He sighed. "That's the story of my life in a nutshell, I guess. At thirty-five,  I was carrying burdens that only a full grown dwarf should bear. It's horrible when you think about it, but it's taught me to appreciate the smaller things in life, and to cope with hardships."

 

"I-I-I'm sorry," Bilbo stammered at last. "I don't know what to say."

 

"Most don't say anything," Frerin replied simply, throwing a leaf into the fire. "But anyway, what's the story of _your_ life?"

 

"Rather pitiful compared to yours I'm afraid, since I have only lived fifty years on this Earth, but I'll try my best," he said. "In short, I was considered an oddity and my parents died over twenty years ago."

"Why were you considered an oddity?" Bofur asked. "Was it because of..." He gestured to the black wolf lying by the fire. He turned his head and bared his teeth at the dwarf, who inched away. Bilbo knew his friend was just joking.

 

"No-- I was an oddity because I was the son of a hobbit who came from a respectable family, and the son of a hobbit who came from an adventurous family. My Mother's side, the Tooks, were seen as highly unrespectable, since they were always going off on adventures to unknown lands, and associating themselves with elves or Big Folk. My Father's side, the Bagginses however, did nothing unexpected or consorted with strangers. Most expected me to be like my Father," he added in a bitter voice. "Since I looked so much like him. But when my Mother died, my friend placed her sword in my hands and told me to go to the Blue Mountains." He cast a glance at the beast, seeing the memories flicker in his eyes. "Then the hobbits of the Shire realised I was just like her."

 

"I'm sorry about your parents," Frerin put an arm around his shoulders in a gesture of comfort. "I know how you must've felt."

 

"My friend has been a huge support to me since he found me during the Fell Winter," As Bilbo spoke those words, the wolf came over and settled down next to the mound of blankets, pushing his muzzle into the hobbit's hand. "I can see you don't trust him, but _I_ , on the other hand, trust him with my life. You will see that you can come to trust him, just like you are able to trust me."

 

"Oh, I do trust him!" Frerin's overenthusiatic tone betrayed his uncomfortable fidgeting. "It's just...he reminds me of something. A long, distant memory."

 

Bilbo did not miss the shadow that fell across the dwarf's face. Nor did he miss the way his friend's head jerked back. It was subtle, but he felt it.

 

"Please don't ask anymore questions," the dwarf begged, lowering his gaze. _He must feel shamed_ , Bilbo thought. _To reveal his weakness in front of the Company_. "I will tell you-- I will tell you _all_ , when the time is right."

 

"When the time is right," Bilbo repeated. "I know you will know when."

 

Frerin opened his mouth to answer, when a high shriek sliced through the night.

 

 _Orcs!_ The hairs began to stand up along the ridge of his friend's back.

 

"Orcs," Kili said, warily checking his surroundings. "Throatcutters."

 

"There'll be dozens of them out there," Fili added.

 

_Don't worry. They're not within two miles of us-- the wind must've carried the noise. But I'll keep watch tonight, just in case._

 

"My friend tells me they are not close," Bilbo annouced to the dwarves. Some had hands resting what looked like sheaths, and Frerin had stood up and unsheathed a sword. "He has offered to keep watch for the rest of the night."

 

"I'll stand guard too," Dwalin said, eyeing him suspiciously. "Better to have two on watch rather than one."

 

_It's clear he doesn't trust me, even after you talked about it._

 

"Everyone be on your guard tonight," Frerin cast a lingering gaze over the Company. "Form a tight group, and keep your weapons close."

 

"I'll take the second watch," Dori volunteered.

 

"Thank you," Dwalin dipped his head.

 

"We should all go to bed now," Balin suggested. "So that we can all be fresh when we wake up tomorrow."

 

"Good idea. Now, everyone off to bed!" Frerin turned away and began to walk to his sleeping area.

 

"Wait," Bilbo's hand suddenly snaked out and caught the large dwarf on the shoulder. "I would like to ask one more thing."

 

"Make it quick, Master Hobbit."

 

"I was just wondering-- when you mentioned that _one_ perished in Smaug's flames...who was it?"

 

He paused.

 

"My best friend."

 

"And what was his name?"

 

"Why do you assume it's a 'his'?" His eyes narrowed.

 

"Please, at least tell me this, if not anything else."

 

He swallowed, as if he was trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he answered.

 

"That is something for another day. Now, Master Baggins, I bid you goodnight!" He marched away, leaving a frustrated Bilbo wondering who on earth that dwarf was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update xD please tell me if I have mistakes or anything-- for some reason, it's not showing up on Word or anything...
> 
> Sorry for the incredibly boring filler chapter, btw...

**Author's Note:**

> So, hey! I hope you enjoyed this chapter ^^ it would be great if you had any comments, harsh or not. This prompt was taken from the link below:
> 
> http://shroxx.tumblr.com/post/47166302737/so-i-had-this-idea-that-instead-of-smaug-coming
> 
> If you're the one who wrote this, I hope my story fills the quota :)


End file.
